Sinner's Paradise
by harley.doll
Summary: In most places sinning is fairly common. In Gotham it's practically a requirement. Seven moments witnessed and lived by Max and Terry that flawlessly define the seven deadliest of sins.
1. a love of justice perverted

[AN: _So throughout this story Chelsea is much closer to Max and Dana than she was in the show. The chapters are in chronological order, so it starts sometime during their senior year and goes from there. Oh and Max is a little giggly in this chapter, but even the best of us enjoy seeing our friends go ballistic on others. I hope you like it!_]

When she's pissed, Dana can be pretty intimidating. She storms through hallways searching for the source of her anger and Max and Chelsea follow along because they know that this is going to be entertaining and to make sure Dana doesn't end up in jail for murder because orange really isn't her color.

"If she were any angrier smoke would be coming from her nose," Chelsea whispers to Max.

Max grins. "And her ears," she whispers back. They giggle as quietly as possible knowing that if they're heard Dana will turn her fury on them and that would ruin all the fun.

They see Terry coming towards them and have trouble stopping themselves from laughing aloud at the expressions that cross his face. He begins to smile when he sees them, then he catches sight of the look that has preceded many loud and angry breakups. His smile falls immediately as he tries to remember what he forgot and his face contorts into one of panic for only a second; the panic is then replaced by a look of grim resolution as he accepts his fate. He stands up straighter as the trio heads in his direction, prepared for the battle ahead of him.

"Did he really just _square _his _shoulders_? I didn't think people actually did that!" Chelsea exclaims, as quietly as she can.

"Keep watching," Max whispers back between giggles. Chelsea grabs Max's arm for support as she watches Terry's face. Sure enough, just as the trio reaches him he raises his hand in greeting only to be completely ignored by Dana; his face then contorts into one of extreme confusion as his gaze flips to Max and Chelsea. As he opens his mouth to question them they divide and reconvene with Terry between them.

"Apparently the cheerleading squad has placed bets on how long you and Dana are going to last before your next break-up," Chelsea said from Terry's right, answering his unasked question. "Guess who the ringleader is?"

"Blade," Max reveals on his left. "Whoever gets the closest gets all the money and the right to ask you to prom. The loser has to tell Dana about the bet."

Terry gapes at the two of them, still recovering from the shock of _not _being on the wrong end of one of Dana's furious tirades. "How did you two figure this out?"

"Us _three_," Max corrects. "One of the new cheerleaders was telling her friend about it after class."

"And her friend's locker was only two down from Dana's," Chelsea says.

"So you two are just going along to witness the massacre of the entire cheerleading squad?" Terry asks, sounding worried.

"To prevent it," Chelsea chirps cheerfully. "And because watching an angry Dana in action is fun!"

"Fun?" Terry echoes.

"Yup," Max says. "It's amazing how scary she can be."

"She's like the Hulk, but she's red…and tiny."

"I bet you guys wouldn't find it so funny if you were on the receiving end. Which is where_ I_ usually end up," Terry grumbles as they step into the courtyard where the cheerleaders typically eat lunch. The girls steer Terry to a nearby table and sit down just as Dana reaches the cheerleaders' table.

"Then consider this your one chance to be on the fun side," Chelsea says.

"Has either one of you ever been on the _not_ fun side?" he asks curiously.

"We know better," they chorus, watching intently as Dana's hands go to her hips. "Uh oh," Max says. "She's tapping her finger."

Terry raises an eyebrow. "She's usually yelling by the time she gets to the finger tap."

"No, the finger tap always comes first," Chelsea corrects. "The _toe _tap comes after the yelling."

Terry's forehead wrinkles. "And about how long before-"

"BLADE SUMMER, WHERE THE HELL DO YOU GET OFF PLACING BETS ON MY RELATIONSHIP?" Dana explodes. Terry jumps and Chelsea and Max laugh as all five feet two and a half inches of Dana explodes, immediately terrifying all the cheerleaders into complete silence.

"There it is!" Max laughs. "I think that freshman just wet herself!"

"One of them is close to tears!" Chelsea exclaims, laughing so hard that her eyes were also full. "You see what we mean Ter? She's like a volcano!"

"A fun sized volcano!" Max cracks as she and Chelsea exchange a high five behind Terry. Enthralled by the show before him, Terry simply shakes his head.

"It's like a car crash," he says as Dana's voice carries across the courtyard. "It sucks when you're in it, but when you're watching it you just can't look away."

"Exactly," Chelsea says to him as Max pats his shoulder.

"Welcome to the fun side, McGinnis," Max says.

"Thanks," Terry replies. He smiles as Dana cuts off a sophomore who is attempting to explain. "The fun side is pretty schway…in a really sick way. We should probably thank Blade."

"Why?" Chelsea asks.

"Because nothing we do wrong for the rest of the day will even register on Dana's radar."

"We could thank her. _Or_ we could stop Dana from hitting her," Max suggests.

"I think I like that plan better."

"Then we'd better hurry," Terry says. "I do know that the arm crossing comes before the violence." They reluctantly slide from their seats and try to hide their smiles as they go to intervene. It takes them ten minutes to convince Dana "take the high road" and in the next week Terry misses three dates, doesn't return six phone calls and breaks at least one promise (that he remembers) but every time he prepares to apologize all Dana can talk about is the nerve of Blade and how she has never been more furious in her entire life.

A thank you balloon turns up tied to Blade's locker and while Dana mutters about popping it, Max raises an eyebrow in Terry's direction and all he can do is shrug and grin.


	2. a love of self perverted to contempt

[AN: _This chapter could have also been called "How Max diligently avoids his kicking and screaming and starts worming her way into Bruce's heart," but it didn't exactly fit._]

At 3:43 am Terry unlocks her window and steps into her room. Her greeting dies in her throat when he snatches off his mask as throws it viciously onto her bed before storming silently into the bathroom. Max sighs and gets up to relock the window and close the curtains. She's had enough experience with this mood to know that he'll open up once he's calm and not a moment before.

It takes a 30 minute shower and leftover spaghetti but finally Terry looks at her sadly (and when he does this he so resembles Matt that it takes all of Max's willpower not to ruffle his hair).

"Wayne won't take his heart meds."

"How do you know?"

"A couple nights ago I was in the suit and I picked up his heartbeat. It was jumping all over the place. When I asked him if he'd taken his pills he told me to mind my damn business and sent me out on patrol."

Max slides closer to Terry and rubs his shoulders. "He's stubborn, but he's not senile. Maybe he really didn't need them."

"The thought crossed my mind, but the next day I did a little snooping. I picked up both of his prescriptions over a month ago and every single slagging pill is right where I left it. At first I thought he'd forgotten after not taking them for a night or two so I kindly reminded him. He told me that he didn't need them and so he wasn't going to take them." Terry leans forward, resting his head in his hands. "He can't- I don't want him to die too Maxie. What am I going to do?" Terry's voice has steadily dropped until he's only whispering. He looks up at Max and she can see the pain in his face just as clearly as she can see the dark circles that are becoming more and more prominent.

"You're going to go to sleep," she replies. She takes his hands and pulls him to his feet and leads him to the bed. "And tomorrow I'll go talk to Wayne."

Terry shakes his head as Max pulls back the blankets. "Not offense Max but he doesn't like you all that much. Why would he listen to you?"

"Because I excel at pointing out what others overlook," is her simple reply. Terry looks utterly confused but Max just shakes her head with a soft smile. "Just go to sleep Ter.

::

It takes Max two trains and a cab ride to get there, but she finally arrives at Wayne Manor. She waits at the gate for Bruce to respond to her page.

"What?" he says gruffly.

"It's me Mr. Wayne. I have some stuff to talk to you about."

"What's wrong with the phone?"

"I wanted to see your smiling face," Max says dryly. When Bruce doesn't respond she presses the button again. "Look the sooner you let me in, the sooner I'm out of your hair. Let's make this as painless as possible."

Bruce grumbles something rude, but Max can't make it out over the creaking of the opening gates. Bruce doesn't wait for her to knock once she reaches the front door; instead he swings it open and regards her angrily.

"This had better be good." He turns and leads the way into the library and takes a seat behind his desk.

"Terry tells me you haven't been taking your meds," Max says, diving right in.

Bruce responds about as well as can be expected. "And how is that any of your business?"

"Technically it's not," Max begins. "But it _is_ Terry's business and it's killing him." Bruce snorts. "If you feel like your life is worth less than it is, fine, but at least acknowledge what your death would do to Terry."

"Old people die Gibson. It's what we do," Bruce spits.

"Well you don't need to facilitate the process," Max retorts. "Especially when you consider the long-term consequences..." She trails off here and scratches Ace behind the ears as Bruce's curiosity builds.

"What long-term consequences," he finally snaps.

"The Powers," Max says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Think about how quickly 'Wayne-Powers' would be 'Powers-Wayne' before just being 'Powers & Sons'. Think about how hard you worked to build that company. Hell, think about how hard your father worked. You _earned _naming an entire company after yourself; Powers just waltzed in, shook a few hands, signed a few papers and boom, now he owns half of what you put your blood, sweat and tears into."

Bruce's eyes are so narrow that Max isn't sure whether or not he can actually see her. "I know what you're doing."

Max shrugs. "Doesn't mean I'm wrong. You wouldn't even be four hours dead before they redistributed your stocks and shut out any and everyone you want to leave your company to. After that they'd raid this place, private property be damned. They'll find everything you have hidden, even your long-eared secret. After that it'll only be a matter of time before Batman will be forced to disappear for a little while just to take the heat off and where will that leave Gotham? You worked as hard to clean it up as you did to build Wayne Enterprises, maybe even harder. And the Powers are going to destroy all your hard work bit by bit."

"And how could you possibly know this?"

"They've always wanted what you have. It's in the way they talk about the company and in the looks they give you when you show up to press conferences and public events. The Powers are a proud bunch and you're the only one who keeps them in their places. Without you they'll run amok."

The irritation in Bruce's eyes is now tempered with a slight twinkle. "Kitchen, drawer beside the stove," he barks. Max does what she thinks is an excellent job of hiding her grin until she reaches the kitchen and digs up the bottles. She returns to the library and deposits one pill from each container into Bruce's waiting hand. He pops them in his mouth and dry swallows them, opening his mouth to prove they're gone. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," Max says. She returns the bottles to their place and walks to the front door where Bruce is waiting. "Don't make me come back," she says sweetly. She leans up and presses a quick peck to his cheek as he opens the door.

"Believe me, that's the last thing I want," he growls. The corner of his mouth twitches slightly and Max smiles.

"Good."

Later that week when Terry crawls in at a more reasonable hour (1:13) he regards her with confusion and awe.

"Wayne said you went to see him."

Max shrugs. "Did it work?"

"Yeah," Terry says incredulously. "I counted again. He's been taking his pills since the day you went. What'd you say to him, by the way? All he'd tell me is that you hit him where he was weak."

Max grins. "I guess I've just got a way with words."

Terry chuckles. "He also said to tell you that you play dirtier than our last district attorney."

"Coming from him that's a compliment."


	3. like gluttony, a sin of waste

[AN: _In which we begin to see how clumsily __Terry and Max __walk a very fine line._]

It's Sunday morning and Max and Terry are still in bed. Both lie awake, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"We should get up," Terry says, not really meaning it. He knows he has to make an appearance at home so that his mother doesn't call the police, and he should probably call Bruce to let him know that he didn't hemorrhage and die before making it to Max's but the idea of leaving the warm comfort of the bed just doesn't appeal to him.

Plus he knows that if he waits long enough Max will eventually make breakfast and her pancakes are not to be missed.

"Yeah we should," Max replies, meaning it about as much as Terry does. She has no concrete plans for the day; on Sundays she generally does homework (either her own or Terry's) and talks to Chelsea on the phone for hours about absolutely nothing. But her homework is done, Terry kept her up until six finishing his and Chelsea dropped her phone in the toilet for the third time and apparently, the third time was the charm. Plus she knows that Terry is waiting for her to get up and make breakfast, and she figures that if he's getting a free meal he can wait just a little while longer.

"Hey, what are you doing next weekend?" he asks as he shifts onto his side. "I have to go represent Bruce at this black tie banquet-type thing and if I go alone I might kill myself."

Max turns as well, onto her stomach, before she replies. "My sister wants to take me to lunch, which means she feels guilty about abandoning me and wants to buy my love and forgiveness. But after that I'm free." She lets her eyes slip shut as she continues. "Maybe one day you should invite Chelsea. She loves stuff like this."

"Great idea. And then when some nut job steals or destroys something I'll just say 'Excuse me Chelsea while I don my spandex and run off to save the city. I hope you weren't planning on getting home anytime soon.'"

Max smiles. "Cute. But the truth is that even if you 'donned your spandex' in front of her she wouldn't notice. Not in a banquet room filled with young, rich and attractive bachelors."

"Okay, but what do I do until then? Hell, what do I do if it's another quiet night? Just sit there and watch her flirt?"

"God forbid you make conversation with her."

"Chelsea and I have nothing to talk about."

"You're kidding right? You've known her for five years Terry. Figure something out!"

"Look I've heard some of the conversations you two have carried on and frankly 'which bachelor has the nicest ass' really isn't a topic I'm comfortable debating."

"Actually we debate which _waiter_ has the nicest ass. Rich bachelors already have every woman in the world drooling over them. The waiters need some love too."

"Well excuse me."

"Why not ask D? She _is_ your girlfriend."

"She told me I had one more time to disappear during a date before she strangled me."

"I'm sure she didn't mean it," Max says with a grin.

Terry snorts. "I'm not. Besides, I need someone to be an extra pair of ears and to cover for me if Batman needs to make an appearance."

"Alright. But you owe me."

"Put it on my tab," Terry replies with a grin of his own. "Now, onto more important business. How can I convince you to make us pancakes?"

"Agree to wash the dishes. And give me five more minutes," Max murmurs.

"Fair enough," Terry says as he pushes a stray pink strand off her forehead.

So they lie there, thinking about nothing, telling themselves that they'll get up in just five more minutes, diligently ignoring how well they fit together and refusing to acknowledge that this desperate attempt to hold on to this perfect moment is the real reason why they won't get out of bed.


	4. overindulgence to the point of waste

_[AN: I am a terrible, horrible person and I am so so so _SO_ sorry I've left you hanging for so long. I love this story and I haven't given up on it, I promise. I hope you enjoy this and I promise I'll update more regularly!]_

Gluttony

When she was fourteen Max finally accepted that when it came to nourishment she had two options: she could learn to cook or she could continue hoping that her steady diet of school lunch and takeout would kill her quickly instead of slowly and painfully. She dug up her mother's cookbooks and began working on simple recipes, just enough to keep her stomach from embarrassing her in class. Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her and she began experimenting with more advanced recipes. Once she perfected those, she began adding her own touches.

It was at this point that she recruited Terry to be her official taste tester. It was the perfect arrangement. Terry had an iron stomach and had no problem telling her what he loved and what he hated and Max was more than willing to let Terry take whatever leftovers he wanted home with him. It took a while but soon Max had a collection of recipes that rivaled any professional chef's. By sixteen, she knew she was finally ready to tackle the one recipe that her mother, her father and her sister had all tried and failed.

Her grandmother's pancakes.

Pancakes themselves aren't difficult but this recipe had stumped the best chefs on both sides of her family. There was a certain balance of spices her grandmother had used that, combined with her "secret ingredient," had made pancakes so perfect that it rivaled chocolate which in Max's opinion was nature's perfect food. Terry spent three days and two nights at her house, eating one pancake from a batch at a time and declaring each one better than the last. Finally, when both of them were beginning to hate the sound of the spatula scraping the pan, she gave him a pancake and leaned back to wait for his assessment. He took one bite and his eyes widened. He took a second, bigger bite and grinned.

"Maxie, you gotta try this one. But not _this _one, a different one," he said as he swallowed. Max made a second one and took a small hesitant bite. Immediately, her face lit up.

"It's perfect!" she exclaimed.

Terry nodded happily and responded with his mouth full. "Congrats Gibson. Can I have some to go?"

Needless to say, her pancakes became his favorite. He asked for them every chance he got and every time he thought he could talk her into it. One year on his birthday, she gave him two huge containers of pancake batter just to give herself a little break. He'd hugged her so hard she thought he'd broken a rib and demolished one container by himself in two days.

Now he sits across from her, eating his sixth. "Maxie, I want you to marry me," he says with his mouth full. She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of coffee.

"No. I don't want pancakes every morning for the rest of my life."

"What about every other morning?" She shakes her head and goes back to reading the comics. She can feel him watching her, but she doesn't look up.

Every so often, always under the influence of pancakes, he asks her to marry him and she says no and they go about their business. She knows that it's just a joke, a little game they play. And yet, every time he asks her, for just a second or two, her heart floats and her stomach plays host to millions of butterflies and she wants so badly to say yes; to agree to spend the rest of her life with her chowhound best friend, who she would make pancakes for every damn day if he wanted, because she wants him to be around when he's not and she needs him all the time, whether it's to kill a spider or to share in an inside joke and because she loves him. She loves him more than she's ever loved anyone and there's little she won't do for him.

Terry head shoots up again. "Can I have another one?"

"Pig."

"Love you too Gibson," he says, winking at her as he takes his seventh. Max shakes her head again, her face showing disbelief and her heart warming with a strange sort of affection. Eventually she'll have to lay all her cards on the table but for now she's content to feed him to his heart's content because even if he finds a new nurse or a new place to crash she knows that he'll never find pancakes as good as hers, and that's reason enough for him to keep coming back.


	5. excessive desire for what is valued

[AN: _After a few drafts I decided that the real focus of this chapter is to show that moment when "slippery slope" turns into "actively sliding downhill". Enjoy!_]

From the outside looking in, Terry McGinnis has it all. A girlfriend who keeps taking him back in spite of numerous screw ups, a day job that pays way better than it should and a 3.3 GPA thanks largely to the girl that serves as his tutor, medic, best friend and confidante all in one fell swoop. Not to mention the impressive physique, the thick black hair and the baby blue eyes that make every girl at Hamilton Hill High weak at the knees.

Well, _almost_ every girl.

After six years of friendship and eighteen months of being his right hand girl, Max is completely impervious to all of Terry's tricks. From the puppy dog pout to the soul searching eye contact, it's been years since Max has fallen for any of it. Even his new material is falling on deaf ears, which is disappointing because he worked on "You know what they say about guys with long ears" for a week. But when he finally uses it on Max all she does is raise an eyebrow and ask if that's the best he has; he responds with "I don't know. Why don't you check my utility belt," and then laughs so hard that before long Max is giggling too.

To be completely honest, when Terry first noticed Max's immunity to his charms he was the slightest bit confused. While he loved that she was now the only girl who could match him in the flirting department, he'd worried that maybe he was losing his edge. It was a vain and shallow worry, but he worried it all the same until he winked at a staring sophomore and she turned the color of Blade's newest convertible. Once his confidence was restored, he managed to look at Max in a different light. He realizes that when it comes to flirting, Max is a pro. He watches her shoot down obnoxious frat boys, leave underclassmen drooling in her wake and even charm a sales associate into giving her a 15 percent discount. (A _female_ sales associate, which screws with his mind to this day.) It's while watching this particular scene unfold that Terry begins to understand that Max is beyond his level; the things he can get with five minutes of hardcore complimenting and smiling pale in comparison to what she gets with a seductive smile and a bat of her eyelashes. She's phenomenal, a flirting goddess. And Terry is intrigued.

He flirts with Max daily, engaging her in a battle of sexual wits both in public and in private and he knows that he's in trouble. To him, Max is the ultimate unattainable goal. He wants her _so_ badly and, deep down, he believes that if they stopped dancing around one another they might actually work and Terry likes the thought of that. Max is brilliant, charming, attractive, strong, determined and she always calls him on his shit. Terry would love to be the man to parade around with Max on his arm; more than that, he would love to be the man Max chooses.

But then there's Dana. Sweet, impatient, forgiving Dana, who is all piss and vinegar one minute and lollipops and kittens the next. Dana, who still loves him even though she's starting to suspect that Bruce may occupy his nights, but there's someone else who keeps him from calling to say good night. Dana, who still swoons when he looks deep into her eyes, takes her hands in his and swears to her that tonight will be the night that he puts Wayne in his place. As he watches her face soften, he thinks that she _has_ to see through it by now; he's made this promise thousands of times, but has yet to "set the old man straight". She should know better by now, even Max says so.

"Not that I enjoy watching you crash and burn or anything," she says to him one day while Dana uses his creds to buy herself an 'I'm sorry' present from him. "But sometimes I wish that just once she would _resist_ you."

"Yeah, no way I could take offense to that," he replies dryly. They sit on a bench across from the shoe store Dana's perusing because Max can't afford new shoes and because seeing price tags sometimes makes Terry feel sick to his stomach.

"I feel bad sometimes," Max continues. "It's like she knows she shouldn't believe you, but she does just because she wants so badly for this to really be the last missed date or the day you put in your two weeks' notice."

Terry sighs and rubs the back of his neck, then drapes his arm across the back of the bench. "I know. And every time she forgives me I promise myself I'm going to be a better boyfriend to her. But then…" he trails off and Max nods sympathetically.

"Yeah, I know." As she pats his leg Terry knows he should be thinking about how to make up the last six dates to Dana or about how he's going to gracefully bow out of this shopping trip by sundown but all he can focus on is the weight of Max's hand on his thigh and the warmth of her back against his arm. _No, you don't know,_ he thinks to himself. _I promise myself I'm going to be a better boyfriend but then I see you bite your lip or cross your legs and all of a sudden I forget everything but how much I want you screaming my name._ Catching Max's eye Dana beckons to her and holds up two different shoes. Max gets up and walks into the store and Terry watches as they debate the merits of each shoe and try each pair on. (He watches especially closely as they bend over to take the shoes on and off.) They decide on a pair and go to the register. As they wait for the sale to be complete, Dana hugs Max as thanks for her help. When the clerk hands Dana the bag, they let go and walk out arm in arm, laughing at some inside joke. Terry's mouth goes dry and a little too much blood begins to flow south as he watches them approach and finally acknowledges the truth: he wants them both.

Hell, at this point he's pretty sure he _needs_ them both.

He wants to protect them- Dana, up close beside her constantly and Max, from a distance, there when she needs him. He wants to be the one who wipes Dana's tears and holds her hand during scary movies. He wants to baby her and cuddle her and protect her from the dangers of the world. He wants to spar with Max verbally, physically and every way in between. He wants to catch Dana when she falls and Max when she jumps. He wants to watch Dana melt under his gaze and in his embrace just as much as he wants to sit back and watch Max flirt with everyone who gives her a second look, knowing that she belongs to him. His love for Dana is sweet and gentle while his love for Max is primal and animalistic.

He stands as they reach the bench and maneuvers himself between them, draping an arm around each girl. Dana presses herself into his side and reaches up to hold the hand that dangles above her shoulder as Max winks at a business man who's giving her a thorough once over. Terry tugs Max closer and narrows his eyes in warning at the man. Max laughs as he rushes off.

"Don't worry Ter," she says patting his stomach. "You know you're my one and only. That is, as long as Dana doesn't mind sharing."

"Are you kidding me? I could use a break. Being with this one is hard work," Dana replies. "You want to take him tonight? I promised my dad I'd have dinner with him."

Max nods. "Okay. Do you want him back this weekend?"

Dana strokes her chin thoughtfully. "Nah. Just keep him 'til Monday, then we'll figure something out."

"So when do we consummate this?" Terry asks slyly. He looks at Dana, who looks at Max.

"We already did," Max says without missing a beat. "You were at work." She and Dana exchange a high five and Terry is too distracted by the image Max just painted to respond. Later that night he's still entranced by the thought of his two girls _together_ together and when he finally crashes after patrol he has dreams that are so dirty he can barely look either of them in the eye the next day. Max looks at him like she knows and he should probably feel guilty but instead he gives her his most suggestive smile and she winks in return.

_Guess I'm not sleeping in class today._

Sometimes Terry wonders how much of this the girls see. Like tonight, he ducked out of their study party before things could take the turn that they always did, but after patrol Max's apartment is empty so he goes back to Dana's where he find them asleep on Dana's bed with the canned screams of one of their horror movie binges muted. Part of him feels like he should leave, just go home and spend two consecutive nights in his own bed for the first time in months. But a different part, one whose motivations he can't even begin to pinpoint, asks him how many more opportunities he'll have to wake up to both of his girls at the same time. He imagines the surprised happiness Dana will radiate and the quiet smile Max will give and it's these images that have him shrugging off his jacket and leaving his shoes by the window.

It takes maneuvering, but eventually Terry is situated between them. Max faces away from him, but her head finds his bicep and her back presses against his left side as soon as he's nearby; Dana shifts once he's settled and ends up with her head pillowed against his chest. Terry smiles as the voice that told him to leave reminds him that this could never be forever.

_Slag forever, _he thinks as he drifts off. _Right now is pretty damn perfect._

And for the record, the way they look the moment before they wake up, with the sun spilling across their skin and their faces more peaceful than he's ever seen them, reassures him that he made the right choice in staying.

(And proves that he is completely and utterly slagged.)

[AN II: _In this chapter I ended up changing the mall scene to the one you read. I really like the other one too though, so if you wouldn't mind reading it and giving me some feedback send me a message! (I won't hold the next chapter hostage if no one responds-I just want to see which one people like better!)_]


	6. where we've captured our friendship

[AN:_ Vanity takes on a more literal meaning here. This is more of an interlude than a chapter, mostly because I feel like Dana could have used a little more development and I don't think it can happen with her repeating the same cycle. Hopefully this will be her chance at that. Also there's a small Sex and the City reference in there, just because the quote sort of sums up how I feel about Max and Dana's relationship. I hope you like it._]

Dana's bathroom is beautiful. Her countertop is made of vintage red and brown granite and all of the fixtures, from the faucets to the showerhead, even the flush button, are gold. The tile is exquisite, the cosmetics that crowd to the left of the sink are top of the line and even her towels radiate luxury. But for all of its glitz and beauty, the most important part of this bathroom is very often taken for granted.

The mirror.

It is the only fixture that is not kept in pristine condition. In the middle of the left side is a permanent streak where Dana wipes away steam after her showers. The area behind the sink is covered in water spots and in the upper right hand corner in small capital letters are the initials DT and MG, written in permanent marker. (And in spite of multiple reminiscing sessions, neither girl can remember for the life of her when this was written.) All of Max and Dana's most important conversations have taken place in front of this mirror. When they're thirteen they raid Max's sister's closet, taking all of the dresses and shoes that are too small for her and spend the entire afternoon and most of the evening in front of the mirror playing what they are much too old to call "dress-up".

"Yesterday I bought my first bra," Max says as they teeter in stilettos that are still too big. Dana's eyes widen in excitement.

"Really? What was it like?"

Max's nose wrinkles. "It was kind of boring actually. There was nothing pretty or lacy like we thought. Mine are all white and plain."

Dana sighs. "When we get older we're never going to wear anything boring or plain. Lace-less lingerie need not apply." She giggles as she says the last part and soon she and Max are back to modeling their newly acquired wardrobe.

At sixteen they're sitting on the bathroom counter trying out makeup tips from three different magazines. Dana is gingerly swiping on her first coat of eyeliner while Max is curling her eyelashes.

"Terry and I had our first real date last night," Dana says slowly. Max smiles and looks at Dana in the mirror with her open eye.

"Where'd you go?"

"We went to see a movie. It was sort of stupid, but Terry really liked it so I didn't say too much." They laugh in unison before Dana continues. "Afterwards we got ice cream and walked around. It was nice."

"Uh-huh," Max says dryly.

"What? It was a very nice evening!" Dana says defensively.

"You have been telling me for a month about how you guys feel each other up in the parking lot and you expect me to be satisfied with 'We saw a movie and had ice cream'? Give me details!"

Dana laughs out loud and narrowly avoids jabbing her eye with the pencil. "All right, we made out a little in the movie. And in line for ice cream. Oh, and in the park. And in the driveway before my dad turned on the light."

Max laughs and raises her hand for a high five. "That's my girl!"

This mirror has seen it all, from their first sleepover (where they hid in the bathroom and talked for hours) to their first breakups (Dana still won't say the name of Max's ninth grade boyfriend and she swears that if she ever sees him again she'll kick him in the shin and walk away). It's been a tradition and today is no different.

It's the morning of their graduation and they spent the previous night painting one another's toenails and talking about middle and high school. In three months Dana will go to Metropolis University for either communication or education and Max will stay in Gotham, having been hired as an interning programmer for the newly renamed Wayne Enterprises. All night they had diligently avoided thinking about "the countdown" (as Chelsea had named it after Dana announced her intentions) and subsequently avoided bursting into tears, but in the light of day they finally face the reality of their situation.

"Can you zip me up?" Max asks from the bathroom. Dana quietly walks in and drops a necklace on the counter before pulling Max's zipper up. Max watches as Dana's forehead wrinkles in much more concentration than necessary. Dana speaks before she does.

"I broke up with Terry the other night," she says quietly. Max's eyebrows shoot up and she hears the pain in her voice before she sees it reaches her face.

"What happened?" she asks softly. Dana shakes her head and steps around, picking up her necklace and motioning for Max to help. They trade places as she explains.

"It's just time to move on. I love Terry but he breaks dates when we're within five minutes of one another; Metropolis is three hours away. I can't just keep waiting around, hoping he'll make me a priority and he can't just keep waiting for me to be more understanding. It was killing us both. This way, we end it before we hate one another," Dana finished quietly.

_It's the end of an era_, Max thinks sadly as she slips the clasp through the hoop. "I'm so sorry D," Max says. Dana smiles gently.

"Don't be. Sometimes first loves don't last, but we'll always love each other. And I got you in the divorce," she jokes. They both stare at their reflections quietly for a minute. "Max?"

"Yeah?"

Dana looks up and Max sees her eyes are beginning to fill. "Take care of him for me?"

"Of course," Max says as she hugs Dana. "He needs all the help he can get." They laugh together for the umpteenth time and hold on to each other for dear life. Dana finally sighs and looks into the mirror.

"Look at us. We're pathetic." Max laughs again as they stare at their blurred reflection. "I'm coming back every chance I get to see you guys."

"And when Wayne's asleep, I'll kidnap Ter and we'll come see you," Max promises. "Promise you'll take care of yourself?"

"Do you?"

Max nods and holds up her pinkie. "Promise." Dana wraps her pinkie around Max's and they kiss their intertwined fingers.

"Come on, let's dry up so we can get going." Max grabs some tissues and hands one to Dana before shoving the rest into her purse. They dry their eyes, brush their hair and glance for what feels like the last time at their initials before finally going out to the car. When they get to the school Terry is waiting in the parking lot leaning against a car borrowed from Bruce. Dana maneuvers her car smoothly into the space next to Terry's.

"Wow," Max says as she gets out. "He let you borrow the Jag?"

"If there's so much as one speck of dirt on this car when I bring it back he'll kill me. But I figure it's worth the risk," Terry says. Grinning slyly he stands up straight and heads for the trunk. "I brought us a little something." Dana and Max share a suspicious look before following him. He opens the trunk to reveal a small cooler, and opens the cooler to reveal three water bottles containing what definitely isn't water. He hands a bottle to each girl and then takes his own as he waits for their reaction.

"Champagne?" Dana asks after she opens her bottle and sniffs the contents. "How did you get this?"

"Powers sent a bottle to Wayne earlier this week and Wayne told Powers very kindly where he could stick the bottle, so I figured he wouldn't mind if I took a little."

"Way to put those delinquent powers to good use," Max compliments. Terry allows a self-satisfied smirk to cross his face before raising his bottle.

"I figure we should make toasts. You know, like at really high-class events."

"Because all the best toasts are given in the parking lot," Dana says dryly. She smiles and lifts her bottle also. "To Terry for being the best worst boyfriend a girl could ever ask for. I'll always love you, dreg. And to Max for being born. To loosely quote one of the best shows ever, frag everyone else; we're soulmates." Dana winks at her and Max laughs aloud as she raises her bottle.

"To my two best friends for being my family when mine fell apart, for loving me even when I was a twip and for reminding me of what's really important in life: laughing until you pee with people who will love you _and _your pee pants." Dana snorts which sets all three of them off and it's a little while before Terry has pulled himself together enough to make his toast.

"To my two favorite girls. I've done wrong by both of you a lot, and it's something I'll never forgive myself for. But you both have forgiven me time and time again and I'm eternally grateful. You two are the most important people in my life." Max's eyes are full for the second time in less than an hour and against her better judgment, she looks at Dana. A single tear is running down her cheek as they raise their bottles.

"To us," they chorus. They swig in unison and all three know that no matter what happens, this will be the moment that will forever sum up this day.


	7. a desire to deprive another & ruin self

[AN: _Ahem. I GOT MY FUCKING DRAFTS! Okay sorry I'm done; now we're back in business! I want to welcome you to the one that started it all. This was the first section of this story that I wrote and it is probably the one that's been edited the most. It takes place a few months after graduation and Max and Terry's relationship has continued to grow albeit into a slightly gray area, at least for them. Enjoy!_]

Max is dating a new guy. Little Miss "slag relationships" has been regularly going on outings with the same guy for two and a half weeks now. His name is Dante. He's tall and muscular and he's some sort of big shot prodigy hoping to sign a deal with Wayne Enterprises. Two minutes after he'd left Bruce's office Bruce had commissioned Max to figure out a way to peek into his company's financial history and somehow that turned into Dante taking Max to all sorts of balls, parties, and banquets like she didn't have a life before he swooped in. Sprawled on his back in (regretfully his own) bed Terry's lip curls as he thinks about how he'd like nothing more than to take the silver spoon from this guy's mouth and replace it with his fist.

He turns over and punches his long abandoned pillow into a more comfortable position, releasing a fraction of his frustrations before running down the list of things he hates about Dante (again). He hates how Dante sends her red roses "just because"; if he really knew anything about Max he'd know that she thinks roses are cliché, and would prefer that you not send her flowers at all if you're just going to send her that generic standby. He hates how Dante kisses her knuckles when he greets her because he knows that Max likes it better when you kiss the inside of her wrist; she thinks it's more romantic and intimate. He hates how Dante insists on treating her like she's so slagging fragile when in reality she could kick his ass without breaking a sweat. He hates how dismissive Dante is of Max's talents, like he could've hacked his military-grade security and sent a detailed report of the past four years of his company to his boss while his date was off finding him a glass of champagne. Terry especially hates the fact that it's the first night in two months that Bruce has let him off before three and he's at home alone because the only person he'd spend a night off with is out on a stupid date with a pompous jackass and- most importantly- what the hell kind of charity benefit lasts until four in the morning?

He turns again and faces the window. The blinds hide him from the light of the moon and in the safety of the darkness Terry allows himself to acknowledge why he _really _hates Dante. It's because for the first time in a long time, Terry's not drifting to sleep with Max curled around him (which is now the _only_ way he can sleep and so his current bout of insomnia is Dante's fault too). It's because the only time Max ever wore a skirt for him it wasn't even really "for him". It's because Max loves peaceful nights like this where he's not injured and there's no one in need of rescuing, so she gets Terry all to herself. It's during nights like this that they play whispered games of truth or dare that start out silly but always involve the answering of questions like _What's the dirtiest fantasy you've ever had about me?_ and the execution of dares such as _Show me how you'd touch me if we were naked right now_. Terry hates Dante because he wants to _be _Dante. He wants to be the man that Max deserves, but instead he's just the man who hopes that one day loving her will be enough.

He finally closes his eyes and decides he'll try willing himself to sleep when his phone buzzes. Grumbling, he manages to find and answer the phone without opening his eyes. "What?" he barks at Bruce, because Dante may be a dreg but he hasn't forgotten that Bruce deserves blame in this too.

"Well someone's in a bad mood," comes the reply. But it's not gravelly and serious. It's soft and beautiful and Terry's eyes shoot open immediately.

"I thought you were on a date," he says to Max, his tone softening considerably.

"I was. I thought you were on patrol."

"I was. It was quiet so Bruce let me off early." Terry sits up and begins searching for his shoes in the darkness. "I'm on my way over."

Max laughs softly. "Open your window McGinnis."

Terry stops and turns to his window. "No way," he says, more to himself than to her. Leaning over and pulling up the blinds he's met with Max, who's sitting calmly on the ledge grinning at him through the window.

"Are you going to let me in or do you want me to sleep out here?" Still stunned he hangs up the phone and stands up, tossing it on his desk before sliding the window open. He offers her a hand, which she takes only as a formality; they both know she can get in on her own. As she turns to close the window behind her, Terry finds his voice.

"What are you doing here?"

She shrugs as she kicks off her shoes. "You always come to my place. It's only fair that I make the commute every once in a while." She walks to Terry's bed and flops into it. Terry stares openly at the way she's sprawled in his bed like she owns it and feels an overwhelming sense of relief. She's here. She chose him. Take that Dante.

Once Max is settled she continues. "Dante's charity benefit was apparently just an excuse to palm my ass all night and when I told him to back off he said that he'd spent so much money on me in the past couple weeks that he practically _owns _my ass and could touch it if he wanted. So I told him to take me home-"

"What's his address?"Terry growled.

"_And_," she continued, ignoring Terry's interruption. "When we got there he grabbed me to stop me from getting out, so I hit him." Max says this last part proudly and Terry can't help but smile.

"How hard?"

"He bled."

Terry shakes his head, unable to stop smiling as he falls into bed beside her. "That's my girl," he says pulling her into his side.

"I wish you'd told me you had the night off," she says, her voice slightly muffled. "I would have come over sooner."

"It doesn't matter," he says inhaling the scent of her shampoo. "You're here now and since Matt and Mom are gone until tomorrow night you get to make me breakfast to make it up to me."

Max snorts. "I wondered why I came home to any empty apartment."

"Next time I'll give you a heads up," Terry laughs.

"You'd better," she responds and it takes all of his willpower not to kiss her until they're both out of breath and touch her everywhere and tell her how much he loves her and how the thought of anyone else touching her made him mad enough to kill, but instead he whispers "Dare." As she thinks one up he manages to lock away his green-eyed monster.

At least, until the next time she goes out.


End file.
